Why I Have Penn Jillette in my Head

Imagine this.

A young, uninteresting, chubby, short haired, acne-ridden average teenager living on a council estate (for you yanks, sort of a ghetto, project housing building) sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to watch satellite TV. Imagine him stopping on every step to hear if he's awoken his mum and step-dad, imagine him getting downstairs, turning on the TV with the remote in hand to instantly press "mute" as soon as the screen lights up so moderate, day time volume doesn't flood the house with that tell-tale noise. This, friends, was me. age 12-15/16, I would often sneak down to check out TV late at night, I'd love to say it was solely to catch episodes of Red Dwarf or Stand-up comedy shows on Paramount, which I promise I did watch.... but, teenage urges being what they are, more often than not the first port of call was the late 900 channels... Red Hot 10 minute preview, Babestation, Playboy channel, oh yes, Sky digital was spoiling me.

 So, the night moves into morning, 1am onwards, the tissues used and binned, the boxer shorts pulled back up, I end up channel hopping, not finding much on, I find myself on a channel which was then called FX289, and other than showing episodes of fairly abstract and forgotten american TV shows (one was this long since forgotten show called "the Wire?"), it also had this show on called "Penn & Teller: Bullshit!". It was a port from the american channel ShowTime, and it was 2 famous magicians talking (well, only one was talking) sceptically about subjects such as the Bible, Astrology, Circumcision, Porn, Boy Scouts and Alternative medicine (amongst other things). My interest was piqued. I had never seen this brazen scepticism on TV before, they were swearing like motherfuckers and making good arguments like a son of a bitch, I found myself conforming to every opinion they made because they made it so well. after all, I was young and easily influenced.

 So, the occasional late night viewing turns into watching fragmented episodes on Youtube, which turns into downloading every episodes (lets just pretend it was legally done) and then leading onto watching PennSays, the bigger half (by weight) of Penn & Teller's video blog, to this day, even though it hasn't been on the tube for about 4 years now I can still remember the little piano intro. What starts filling my mind and my heart are the sort of arguments I have never heard before, while simultaneously I was becoming a rather ill informed militant atheist in my late teens, Mr Jillette keep swinging away as a middle aged, more informed and loving Libertarian, I found myself agreeing to everything he said but not being able to articulate my own arguments and thoughts. As my teens gave way to twenties, PennSays becomes PennPoint, similar thing, only sponsered by different people, and I'd check my youtube subscriptions (pardon the word) religiously to see if the new one was up. His insight was something I could't get enough of, and he was genuinely beginning to influence the way I argue.

 The best sort of example I can give is this. I am fully aware that I am not a genius, not an intellectual, barely articulate and and extremely, painfully, hilariously ill informed about most things. However, my scratchy little monkey brain still fills me with views and opinions about all things political, ethical, moral, philosophical and artistic. Furthermore, instead of thinking "well, I'm not smart enough on this subject, so I won't say anything" or "well I don't know much but I'll pretend I do" I find myself just stating, before I state my opinion "well, as a highly uninformed, unresearched, and ill thought out perspective (which in all likelihood, mine are prone to being) my opinion is that...." and, you know what? I get on better with people. I like speaking to those who know more than I do, when I throw out some bullshit argument or thought to someone much better informed than I, they correct me, and then moving on from that I'm a tiny percentile smarter for it.

 I will never be an academic, I will never be renowned and revered for my opinion, but if growing up watching and listening to Mr J has taught me anything, it's that it's OK to be wrong. Just admit that you are.

 What's more, as he bases most of his political rhetoric on american society, I am ill equipped to identify with what he's talking about with regards to "left" and "right" as, here in the UK, our politics work a little differently. (both parties run by similar looking guys, but the county's not as polarized). So when I find myself reading about British politics and events, I'm now up the creek without my Penn Paddle, or am I?

 I've been equipped with a way of getting my opinion across that both states my own ignorance and welcomes new information, it's universal. The man who once thought he was going to get a "surprise Nobel prize", in my eyes, deserves one. Penn's thoughts on freedom of speech, liberty and individual respect are widely applicable, and I feel it would make him more an ideal role model for young people than any Obama, Armstrong or Bush. He, in all likely hood would disagree with me, I have no proof of that because I've never met him or spoke to him. (although he responded to me on twitter a couple of times. oh the ejaculation overload) But I feel that open minded/opinionated mindset serves me so well, I wish others would take on board all it has to offer.

 I like to think that my long hair, moustache-less beard, taste in Bob Dylan and Frank Zappa are all coincidental, but as any amateur (or in my case, EXTREMELY amateur) psychologist will tell you, there's a very clear correlation between the time I started following Jillette and the tastes I've acquired. But I don't care.

 So, why the title?

 Well, as I explained to a very close friend of mine, I realised that whenever I'm arguing, debating, discussing or deliberating something, there is literally a little Penn in my head focusing and refining what I say and do. No Kidding. I have a 6 foot 7 inch, long haired Juggler from Greenfield, Massachusetts, USA in my head telling me what the right thing to do is. The craziest part is that I don't really want to call myself his "biggest fan" or that he's "the greatest man who ever lived". Thinking the way I do, I feel fortunate to have had his influence, but I'm more grateful that it has helped me form my own, sometimes different opinions in life. His influence is ongoing, I follow his tweets, subscribe to his podcast, and upon his recommendation I'm currently reading Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged', I've read his book "God No! Signs you may already be an atheist, plus other magical tales" and have his latest literary fare "Every Day is an Atheist Holiday" on pre-order from Amazon. I hope one day to be fortunate enough to meet the big man himself, he once said

"there's no-one I wouldn't rather see naked"

 So I may have to show him "Little Dean" when I meet him, because then he'll like me more... Right?

 Mr. Jillette, Thank you, my thoughts and opinions have changed over the years, and there are many things I disagree with you on. But my atheism, my skepticism, and my love of people, liberty and respect can all be traced back to the love of the world around me you have helped me to articulate. You beautiful Carny trash Asshole.

 Every inch of my love,

 Dean Dickson

What happens after you die?

Often the thoughts of the faithful once it's established that I am not of faith. It is usually the first question they ask once I've laid down my preachy anti-faith perspective, more often than not they're pretty sweet when they ask, and before I answer from my heart I always take a moment to ponder, and it's fascinating what comes each time.

It's true that as an atheist all I seem to be able to look forward too is mud, worms and a whole bunch of nothing. There is nothing except absence after death and that should be such a depressing, scary thought that I shun it right away and clamour for a nicer sounding, warmer feeling alternative, right?

Death is the end of your story, but it is not "THE" end. I'm a firm believer that we exist only in the memory, by which I mean as I sit in my room alone typing away I only exist in any significant way in the minds of my friends family and co-workers, the good/bad thoughts I left them with, the things we shared and the things we lost. Dear reader, the time we aren't in the same room is truly the only time in which we exist at all. So when it comes for this sack of meat to lay down and wither, I still exist where it actually counts. I don't believe in a white light, an eternal bliss, or a silly "somewhere in between" where I consist of ectoplasm and bug those I once knew. No. I believe that we have to make count the times we see people for real, the gestures and the smiles, the hugs and the kisses.

As human beings we have incredible gifts for making ourselves and each-other laugh, and for hurting each-other. Before dedicating a life to servitude of a metaphor, think about the people you have liked, loved and loathed, and how you want to exist when can no longer influence them.

The time we're privileged to have (being the one out of the millions of sperm released) should be filled thoughts of freedom and love, not as ideals, but as goals. Not as worldwide phenomenons (many a man has tried to bring both globally, many have failed) but to the one-on-one basis to the people you see every day. You won't always get it right, you're only human, but the more you try, and the more you think, the better you and the world will become.

Here's to a happy (better written) blog from here on out. D